FIC (Supernatural): Fluff Comment Fics (Dean/Cas)
The lovely and amazing qthelights hosted a Dean/Cas & Jensen/Misha Comment!Fic Meme this weekend, featuring prompts for Schmoop/Fluff/Cliche/HC. And I went a little nuts on it. :) So prepare yourself for massive amounts of fluff! Three fics for Dean/Cas pairing here, ranging in length from 600 words to 1,020 words.
Title: The Best Kind of Accident
Author: blue_fjords
Word count: 600 words
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Cas, Sam
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/Spoilers: None, really.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Prompt: Dean/Cas, accidental kisses from darksilvercat
Not even THIS is going to turn me off pizza. Flour formed drifts across the kitchen floor, sprinkled liberally with both tomato sauce and blood. The fire was finally dying in the huge domed oven, and the smell of a meat other than pepperoni caused Dean to wrinkle his nose. Well, maybe for a week.
Sam poked his head into the kitchen. "No corpses left in the restaurant. What about back here?"
Dean jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Just Papa John over there. His head's still on fire, though."
"Great." Sam glanced around at the blood-spattered walls. Several smears were definitely sigils of some kind. "I'm just going to tell myself that's sauce."
Dean grunted in agreement. "The cheese is still good. Want some?" He reached into a bowl on the counter and pinched together a generous amount of mozzarella.
Sam gave him a disgusted look. "Dude, it probably has brain splatter on it. I'm going back out there. Call Cas; see if he knows these symbols."
The kitchen door closed behind him, and Dean turned back to the cheese, frowning. It did taste a little funny. The air changed slightly.
"Dean."
"Hey, Cas, I'm glad you're here," Dean said, turning around. He took a step towards the angel and the entire floor seemed to slide under him. "Oh, fuck!" he swore, arms windmilling and feet scrambling for purchase through slick olive oil.
Cas stood there watching him, head tilted, puzzled expression on his face.
"A little help here!" Dean gritted out.
"Of course, Dean," Cas said, coming forward and holding out his arms to stop Dean's forward momentum. Dean promptly crashed into him, knocking them both to the ground, Dean's head falling forward and his lips landing with a loud smack on Cas's lips.
Dean jerked back as if burned. "Shit, sorry, let me-" He tried standing up, but his hands were tangled in the trench coat and his feet were slipping in the damn olive oil. "I didn't mean..." He got one knee under him, and felt his face burn, as it was lodged quite snugly against Cas's crotch. "Sorry," he mumbled, tried moving it, and fell flat onto Cas's body again. "Fuck."
"Dean." He couldn't stop staring at Cas's lips. I just fucking kissed those!
"Dean," Cas said again, and Dean definitely wasn't imagining the rough tone, or the way Cas's hand came up and circled his neck. Dean stared, fascinated, as Cas's face moved closer, and then their lips were pressed together again.
Cas kissed like he'd read a manual on how to do it and wanted to practice each technique. He licked along the corners of Dean's lips, nibbled softly at Dean's bottom lip and then his mouth opened and his tongue darted out, forcing Dean's lips open. Dean couldn't stop the moan from escaping, and Cas surged up, his free arm circling Dean's waist and pulling him firmly against his body. Dean ground down into him, and smiled into the kiss at the noise Cas made in response. His own fingers struggled to pull up Cas's shirt, to feel skin as his tongue tangled with Cas's. He was running out of air, but had never felt more alive.
"Hey, did Cas get here yet?" The door banged open and Dean froze, pressed full-length against the angel on the messy floor, Cas's tongue halfway down his throat.
Sam's footsteps came nearer. "Um. I'll leave you to it, then."
Dean heard the door close again. Cas kissed him again, gentler, and looked up at him with a smile in his eyes. "What are we being left to?"
Title: Within the Purple Room
Author: blue_fjords
Word count: 960 words
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Cas, Lisa, Ben
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/Spoilers: Set post-5x22.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Prompt: Cas and Dean's first time... cuddling from devilsduplicity
The guest room in Lisa's house sports frilly purple curtains. They match the quilt on the double bed and the stenciled flowers along the wainscoting. Dean lies awake at night, staring at the flowers. The streetlight had gone out soon after he moved into Lisa's place, and someone had come by just last week and fixed it. It shines through a gap in the curtains, changing a few of the flowers to pale lavender and leaving the others a deep plum.
He'd tried sleeping with Lisa at first, but that had been a fiasco. The end of the Apocalypse had turned his libido to mush, and he couldn't sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time anyhow. After a week of that, Lisa had quietly suggested the guest room, and Dean had gladly accepted.
Now he sleeps in a violet haze and dreams of violence. He wakes, gasping and shaking, and starts his vigil with the purple flowers, each night the same. He sleeps less and less, but at least he dreams less and less, too.
He's been at Lisa's for three months when everything changes. Again, some more. If Dean had a dollar for every time his life completely changed, he could buy his own pie shop.
Cas comes back, suddenly appearing next to Dean and Ben on the sidewalk, his trench coat flapping around his legs.
"Dean," he says, looking around, gauging the surroundings, before his eyes rest on Dean. "We need to talk."
Dean just stares at him. "Now?" he rasps out, his throat dry and aching.
Cas frowns and looks down at Ben. "Tonight," he says decisively. "I'll find your dreams."
And with that, he's gone again. Dean swears loudly and Ben looks frantically all around them.
"Forget it, kiddo. You won't find him," Dean tells him.
"But Dean--" Ben protests.
"Take my word for it. You will not see him again."
***
Dean lies in bed that night, willing himself to fall asleep to no avail. Dinner had been excruciating, with Ben regaling his mother with talk of the stranger who appeared out of the blue. Lisa had just looked at him, like she knew precisely who Cas was. Dean wonders if he ever talked in his sleep during his week in Lisa's bed.
Sleep will not come, and Dean stares up at the ceiling, trying to calm his racing heart and count sheep. The clock reads 1:14 AM when a presence is suddenly sitting on the bed next to him.
"What happened to my dreams, Cas?" Dean asks. He has to clear his throat first, and he knows the hand that is not clutching the quilt is trembling, hidden beneath the blankets.
"You haven't been sleeping," Cas replies. He stands up and begins to shrug out of his trench coat.
"No shit, I haven't been sleeping. Where the hell have you been? Three months and you don't even call?" He tries to keep the bitterness from his voice, really he does.
Cas gives him a level look. "Heaven was not going to sort itself out on its own, Dean." His suit coat joins the trench in a neat pile on the floor, then the tie, then his shoes and socks.
"What's up with the strip tease?" He's never seen Cas naked, not all the way. Everything between them was frantic groping in the backseat of the Impala, or hurried grinding and thrusting against alley walls, or on rare occasions, Cas pressed against him in a motel bed, fucking him until he couldn't see the pillow beneath him, let alone anything else. He shivers now, wondering if it will be one of those times. And then Cas would leave again, the moment it was over.
"I'm going to help you sleep," Cas says, undoing his belt and pushing his pants down and off. He folds them awkwardly and adds them to the pile, and then starts on his buttons.
"You're going to fuck me to sleep? There are women and children here, Cas," he says, attempting a smile. He fails.
"No, I don’t think that will work just yet," Cas answers, and adds the shirt to the rest of his clothes. "I have done some research. You need to 'scoot' over and we shall cuddle." He pulls up a corner of the quilt.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Cuddle? That's your answer? What about, 'Hey, Dean, let's get Sam out of Hell?' or 'Hey, Dean, I missed you, how bout we fuck?' or 'Hey, Dean, the Apocalypse is over, let's go out for pie?'" Dean yanks back at the quilt. Cas frowns at him.
"I'm not leaving after we cuddle," he says. "We can do all those things, but you need to sleep first. Your body demands it."
Dean freezes. "Wait. Go back. We can do all those things?"
Cas reaches over and gently tugs the quilt from his grasp and slides under it. Dean has no choice but to scoot back and let him in. "Dean. Sam told you not to try to get him out. He made no restrictions on me."
Dean can't help himself, he surges forward and wraps Cas into a full body hug and presses an open-mouthed kiss against Cas's lips. Cas kisses him back, that blend of forceful and gentle that makes him unique in Dean's experience, and Dean feels himself beginning to melt against his body. Cas makes a happy little noise and Dean pulls back.
"What?" He pulls Cas closer, rests his head on Cas's shoulder. "What is it?"
"I believe this qualifies as cuddling," Cas says, and rubs his back.
Dean would laugh, but he's already falling asleep, wrapped firmly in the cocoon of Cas's arms and legs and a purple fluffy quilt.
Title: Sundae
Author: blue_fjords
Word count: 1,020 words
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Cas, Sam
Rating: PG
Warnings/Spoilers: None, really.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Prompt: Dean/Cas the non-sexual use of hot fudge sauce and tender kissing from heavenlyxbodies.
Sam popped the top on the bottle of Hershey's syrup and squirted a long arc of chocolate into his mouth. Cas watched intently as Sam then shook the can of whip cream, unpended it over his gaping jaw and sprayed a large dollop of cream into his mouth.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Dean exclaimed as Sam began to close his mouth. "Cherry on top." He tried twisting off the lid from the jar of maraschino cherries. "Ungh," he grunted. "Dude, did you superglue this thing?"
"Bleurgh mumf furtee," Sam gurgled.
Cas took the jar out of Dean's hands and opened it on the first try.
"I loosened that for you," Dean informed him, reaching into the jar. He plucked out a cherry, took careful aim, tossed it into Sam's chocolatey, creamy mouth and then turned to Cas. "Observe, if you will, the stupid look of bliss that crosses the face of the species homo winchester of the primate family while enjoying a Poor Man's Sundae."
"Primate is the order," Cas said as Sam made a noise of protest.
"That's what I was going to say," Sam said, swallowing.
"Whatever." Dean picked up a jar of Dove hot fudge sauce and held it out to Cas. "You get the higher-end stuff. You want it heated?"
"I want to try the Poor Man’s Sundae. Sam's syrup wasn't heated." Cas frowned down at the bottle of Hershey's and gave it an experimental squeeze. He looked surprised when a squirt of syrup fell on his hand.
"That's because it only has about two percent chocolate in it. Go on, taste that," Sam encouraged him. Cas raised his hand and licked off the syrup. Dean swallowed audibly. "Well?" Sam asked.
"There is a strange aftertaste.” Cas smacked his lips. "The Dove one is more real?" Sam nodded. "I think I shall prefer that."
Dean cleared his throat. "Awesome. Let's get this show on the road; I think it should be heated -"
"For proper viscosity," Sam supplied.
"Or because there's a microwave here," Dean finished. The microwave dinged a few moments later. "Okay, Cas," Dean said, grabbing a spoon and giving the sauce a swirl, "open wide."
He dolloped a generous amount on Cas's tongue, and the angel's eyes went wide. "Not too hot?" Cas shook his head, and Sam came forward with the whipped cream and sprayed an equally generous amount on top of the sauce. "Now for the cherry," Dean plopped two into Cas's mouth, "and dig in, Cas."
Cas ate very slowly, thankfully with his mouth closed. His eyes were also squeezed shut, as if concentrating super hard on all the sweet flavors combining into a gooey, drippy river of fudge and cream down his throat. Dean felt some drool escape his lips, and he surreptitiously wiped it away before Sam noticed. Cas's eyes flew open when he encountered the cherries. "Oh!" he exclaimed.
"More heavenly than Heaven, am I right?" Dean asked. Cas licked his lips, missing a bit of cream in the corner of his mouth. Dean couldn’t stop staring at it.
"So ... that's Poor Man's Sundae. I'm gonna get us some ice cream," Sam said, looking between the two of them, "and then you can try the original hot fudge sundae, too." He hurriedly backed out of the motel room, grabbing the Impala's keys.
"Why is this Poor Man's Sundae?" Cas asked Dean. "It tasted rich to me."
Dean took a step closer. That cream was calling to him, and there was still a hint of chocolate on Cas's lips, too. "Because when we were kids, sometimes we wouldn't have money for sundaes, but Sam wanted one anyhow. So I'd filch cherries from a bar and we'd get generic whipped cream and syrup. Poor Man's Sundae."
"That is …" Cas searched for the proper word. "Sweet." He gave a tiny smile, and Dean couldn't resist anymore. His tongue darted out and licked at the whipped cream in the corner of Cas's mouth.
He drew back and looked at Cas. Cas eyed him calmly. "Thank you, Dean."
"Uh. You're welcome," he replied. He fought back a blush. What had he been expecting, really? This was Cas. "I guess we should -" he made a feeble gesture at the jars and bottles on the table. Anything to occupy his hands and keep him from embarrassing himself again. Thank you? Seriously? He picked up the bottle of Hershey's syrup to cap it, but he must have squeezed too hard, because a little squirted up into the air and some landed on his hand. Deja vu.
He froze in place when Cas picked up his hand and licked at the syrup. "I think I like it despite the aftertaste," Cas said.
"Ngrle smewghkds," Dean spasmed. Cas tilted his head at him.
"I agree. And you got some on your lip, too." Cas leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips. Dean could feel him start to break the kiss - Hell, no! - and he parted his lips. Cas made a soft noise of surprise when his tongue entered Dean's mouth, followed by a low moan when Dean's tongue parted his own lips. Cas tasted like Dean's childhood, and the backseat of the Impala on a hot summer day, and everyone in a good mood and singing along to the radio, with the promise of chocolate and cream just around the corner. Dean threaded his non-sticky hand through Cas's hair and stroked his thumb down to the base of his neck. Cas hummed into the kiss, and brought his own non-sticky hand up to mirror Dean's actions. Dean pulled him closer and sucked on his lower lip, tasting the remnants of chocolate and recalling all the times he’d done this before, until they all faded away, and it was just Cas, holding his face and kissing him like it was the only thing in his vast years of existence that he wanted to do.
The Impala’s engine sounded outside, and Dean reluctantly broke the kiss, still holding Cas. "Thank you," he whispered.
Cas leaned forward, pressed his lips against Dean's for a moment more. "You're welcome."
Title: The Best Kind of Accident
Author: blue_fjords
Word count: 600 words
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Cas, Sam
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/Spoilers: None, really.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Prompt: Dean/Cas, accidental kisses from darksilvercat
Not even THIS is going to turn me off pizza. Flour formed drifts across the kitchen floor, sprinkled liberally with both tomato sauce and blood. The fire was finally dying in the huge domed oven, and the smell of a meat other than pepperoni caused Dean to wrinkle his nose. Well, maybe for a week.
Sam poked his head into the kitchen. "No corpses left in the restaurant. What about back here?"
Dean jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Just Papa John over there. His head's still on fire, though."
"Great." Sam glanced around at the blood-spattered walls. Several smears were definitely sigils of some kind. "I'm just going to tell myself that's sauce."
Dean grunted in agreement. "The cheese is still good. Want some?" He reached into a bowl on the counter and pinched together a generous amount of mozzarella.
Sam gave him a disgusted look. "Dude, it probably has brain splatter on it. I'm going back out there. Call Cas; see if he knows these symbols."
The kitchen door closed behind him, and Dean turned back to the cheese, frowning. It did taste a little funny. The air changed slightly.
"Dean."
"Hey, Cas, I'm glad you're here," Dean said, turning around. He took a step towards the angel and the entire floor seemed to slide under him. "Oh, fuck!" he swore, arms windmilling and feet scrambling for purchase through slick olive oil.
Cas stood there watching him, head tilted, puzzled expression on his face.
"A little help here!" Dean gritted out.
"Of course, Dean," Cas said, coming forward and holding out his arms to stop Dean's forward momentum. Dean promptly crashed into him, knocking them both to the ground, Dean's head falling forward and his lips landing with a loud smack on Cas's lips.
Dean jerked back as if burned. "Shit, sorry, let me-" He tried standing up, but his hands were tangled in the trench coat and his feet were slipping in the damn olive oil. "I didn't mean..." He got one knee under him, and felt his face burn, as it was lodged quite snugly against Cas's crotch. "Sorry," he mumbled, tried moving it, and fell flat onto Cas's body again. "Fuck."
"Dean." He couldn't stop staring at Cas's lips. I just fucking kissed those!
"Dean," Cas said again, and Dean definitely wasn't imagining the rough tone, or the way Cas's hand came up and circled his neck. Dean stared, fascinated, as Cas's face moved closer, and then their lips were pressed together again.
Cas kissed like he'd read a manual on how to do it and wanted to practice each technique. He licked along the corners of Dean's lips, nibbled softly at Dean's bottom lip and then his mouth opened and his tongue darted out, forcing Dean's lips open. Dean couldn't stop the moan from escaping, and Cas surged up, his free arm circling Dean's waist and pulling him firmly against his body. Dean ground down into him, and smiled into the kiss at the noise Cas made in response. His own fingers struggled to pull up Cas's shirt, to feel skin as his tongue tangled with Cas's. He was running out of air, but had never felt more alive.
"Hey, did Cas get here yet?" The door banged open and Dean froze, pressed full-length against the angel on the messy floor, Cas's tongue halfway down his throat.
Sam's footsteps came nearer. "Um. I'll leave you to it, then."
Dean heard the door close again. Cas kissed him again, gentler, and looked up at him with a smile in his eyes. "What are we being left to?"
Title: Within the Purple Room
Author: blue_fjords
Word count: 960 words
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Cas, Lisa, Ben
Rating: PG-13
Warnings/Spoilers: Set post-5x22.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Prompt: Cas and Dean's first time... cuddling from devilsduplicity
The guest room in Lisa's house sports frilly purple curtains. They match the quilt on the double bed and the stenciled flowers along the wainscoting. Dean lies awake at night, staring at the flowers. The streetlight had gone out soon after he moved into Lisa's place, and someone had come by just last week and fixed it. It shines through a gap in the curtains, changing a few of the flowers to pale lavender and leaving the others a deep plum.
He'd tried sleeping with Lisa at first, but that had been a fiasco. The end of the Apocalypse had turned his libido to mush, and he couldn't sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time anyhow. After a week of that, Lisa had quietly suggested the guest room, and Dean had gladly accepted.
Now he sleeps in a violet haze and dreams of violence. He wakes, gasping and shaking, and starts his vigil with the purple flowers, each night the same. He sleeps less and less, but at least he dreams less and less, too.
He's been at Lisa's for three months when everything changes. Again, some more. If Dean had a dollar for every time his life completely changed, he could buy his own pie shop.
Cas comes back, suddenly appearing next to Dean and Ben on the sidewalk, his trench coat flapping around his legs.
"Dean," he says, looking around, gauging the surroundings, before his eyes rest on Dean. "We need to talk."
Dean just stares at him. "Now?" he rasps out, his throat dry and aching.
Cas frowns and looks down at Ben. "Tonight," he says decisively. "I'll find your dreams."
And with that, he's gone again. Dean swears loudly and Ben looks frantically all around them.
"Forget it, kiddo. You won't find him," Dean tells him.
"But Dean--" Ben protests.
"Take my word for it. You will not see him again."
***
Dean lies in bed that night, willing himself to fall asleep to no avail. Dinner had been excruciating, with Ben regaling his mother with talk of the stranger who appeared out of the blue. Lisa had just looked at him, like she knew precisely who Cas was. Dean wonders if he ever talked in his sleep during his week in Lisa's bed.
Sleep will not come, and Dean stares up at the ceiling, trying to calm his racing heart and count sheep. The clock reads 1:14 AM when a presence is suddenly sitting on the bed next to him.
"What happened to my dreams, Cas?" Dean asks. He has to clear his throat first, and he knows the hand that is not clutching the quilt is trembling, hidden beneath the blankets.
"You haven't been sleeping," Cas replies. He stands up and begins to shrug out of his trench coat.
"No shit, I haven't been sleeping. Where the hell have you been? Three months and you don't even call?" He tries to keep the bitterness from his voice, really he does.
Cas gives him a level look. "Heaven was not going to sort itself out on its own, Dean." His suit coat joins the trench in a neat pile on the floor, then the tie, then his shoes and socks.
"What's up with the strip tease?" He's never seen Cas naked, not all the way. Everything between them was frantic groping in the backseat of the Impala, or hurried grinding and thrusting against alley walls, or on rare occasions, Cas pressed against him in a motel bed, fucking him until he couldn't see the pillow beneath him, let alone anything else. He shivers now, wondering if it will be one of those times. And then Cas would leave again, the moment it was over.
"I'm going to help you sleep," Cas says, undoing his belt and pushing his pants down and off. He folds them awkwardly and adds them to the pile, and then starts on his buttons.
"You're going to fuck me to sleep? There are women and children here, Cas," he says, attempting a smile. He fails.
"No, I don’t think that will work just yet," Cas answers, and adds the shirt to the rest of his clothes. "I have done some research. You need to 'scoot' over and we shall cuddle." He pulls up a corner of the quilt.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Cuddle? That's your answer? What about, 'Hey, Dean, let's get Sam out of Hell?' or 'Hey, Dean, I missed you, how bout we fuck?' or 'Hey, Dean, the Apocalypse is over, let's go out for pie?'" Dean yanks back at the quilt. Cas frowns at him.
"I'm not leaving after we cuddle," he says. "We can do all those things, but you need to sleep first. Your body demands it."
Dean freezes. "Wait. Go back. We can do all those things?"
Cas reaches over and gently tugs the quilt from his grasp and slides under it. Dean has no choice but to scoot back and let him in. "Dean. Sam told you not to try to get him out. He made no restrictions on me."
Dean can't help himself, he surges forward and wraps Cas into a full body hug and presses an open-mouthed kiss against Cas's lips. Cas kisses him back, that blend of forceful and gentle that makes him unique in Dean's experience, and Dean feels himself beginning to melt against his body. Cas makes a happy little noise and Dean pulls back.
"What?" He pulls Cas closer, rests his head on Cas's shoulder. "What is it?"
"I believe this qualifies as cuddling," Cas says, and rubs his back.
Dean would laugh, but he's already falling asleep, wrapped firmly in the cocoon of Cas's arms and legs and a purple fluffy quilt.
Title: Sundae
Author: blue_fjords
Word count: 1,020 words
Characters/Pairing: Dean/Cas, Sam
Rating: PG
Warnings/Spoilers: None, really.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Prompt: Dean/Cas the non-sexual use of hot fudge sauce and tender kissing from heavenlyxbodies.
Sam popped the top on the bottle of Hershey's syrup and squirted a long arc of chocolate into his mouth. Cas watched intently as Sam then shook the can of whip cream, unpended it over his gaping jaw and sprayed a large dollop of cream into his mouth.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Dean exclaimed as Sam began to close his mouth. "Cherry on top." He tried twisting off the lid from the jar of maraschino cherries. "Ungh," he grunted. "Dude, did you superglue this thing?"
"Bleurgh mumf furtee," Sam gurgled.
Cas took the jar out of Dean's hands and opened it on the first try.
"I loosened that for you," Dean informed him, reaching into the jar. He plucked out a cherry, took careful aim, tossed it into Sam's chocolatey, creamy mouth and then turned to Cas. "Observe, if you will, the stupid look of bliss that crosses the face of the species homo winchester of the primate family while enjoying a Poor Man's Sundae."
"Primate is the order," Cas said as Sam made a noise of protest.
"That's what I was going to say," Sam said, swallowing.
"Whatever." Dean picked up a jar of Dove hot fudge sauce and held it out to Cas. "You get the higher-end stuff. You want it heated?"
"I want to try the Poor Man’s Sundae. Sam's syrup wasn't heated." Cas frowned down at the bottle of Hershey's and gave it an experimental squeeze. He looked surprised when a squirt of syrup fell on his hand.
"That's because it only has about two percent chocolate in it. Go on, taste that," Sam encouraged him. Cas raised his hand and licked off the syrup. Dean swallowed audibly. "Well?" Sam asked.
"There is a strange aftertaste.” Cas smacked his lips. "The Dove one is more real?" Sam nodded. "I think I shall prefer that."
Dean cleared his throat. "Awesome. Let's get this show on the road; I think it should be heated -"
"For proper viscosity," Sam supplied.
"Or because there's a microwave here," Dean finished. The microwave dinged a few moments later. "Okay, Cas," Dean said, grabbing a spoon and giving the sauce a swirl, "open wide."
He dolloped a generous amount on Cas's tongue, and the angel's eyes went wide. "Not too hot?" Cas shook his head, and Sam came forward with the whipped cream and sprayed an equally generous amount on top of the sauce. "Now for the cherry," Dean plopped two into Cas's mouth, "and dig in, Cas."
Cas ate very slowly, thankfully with his mouth closed. His eyes were also squeezed shut, as if concentrating super hard on all the sweet flavors combining into a gooey, drippy river of fudge and cream down his throat. Dean felt some drool escape his lips, and he surreptitiously wiped it away before Sam noticed. Cas's eyes flew open when he encountered the cherries. "Oh!" he exclaimed.
"More heavenly than Heaven, am I right?" Dean asked. Cas licked his lips, missing a bit of cream in the corner of his mouth. Dean couldn’t stop staring at it.
"So ... that's Poor Man's Sundae. I'm gonna get us some ice cream," Sam said, looking between the two of them, "and then you can try the original hot fudge sundae, too." He hurriedly backed out of the motel room, grabbing the Impala's keys.
"Why is this Poor Man's Sundae?" Cas asked Dean. "It tasted rich to me."
Dean took a step closer. That cream was calling to him, and there was still a hint of chocolate on Cas's lips, too. "Because when we were kids, sometimes we wouldn't have money for sundaes, but Sam wanted one anyhow. So I'd filch cherries from a bar and we'd get generic whipped cream and syrup. Poor Man's Sundae."
"That is …" Cas searched for the proper word. "Sweet." He gave a tiny smile, and Dean couldn't resist anymore. His tongue darted out and licked at the whipped cream in the corner of Cas's mouth.
He drew back and looked at Cas. Cas eyed him calmly. "Thank you, Dean."
"Uh. You're welcome," he replied. He fought back a blush. What had he been expecting, really? This was Cas. "I guess we should -" he made a feeble gesture at the jars and bottles on the table. Anything to occupy his hands and keep him from embarrassing himself again. Thank you? Seriously? He picked up the bottle of Hershey's syrup to cap it, but he must have squeezed too hard, because a little squirted up into the air and some landed on his hand. Deja vu.
He froze in place when Cas picked up his hand and licked at the syrup. "I think I like it despite the aftertaste," Cas said.
"Ngrle smewghkds," Dean spasmed. Cas tilted his head at him.
"I agree. And you got some on your lip, too." Cas leaned forward and kissed him gently on the lips. Dean could feel him start to break the kiss - Hell, no! - and he parted his lips. Cas made a soft noise of surprise when his tongue entered Dean's mouth, followed by a low moan when Dean's tongue parted his own lips. Cas tasted like Dean's childhood, and the backseat of the Impala on a hot summer day, and everyone in a good mood and singing along to the radio, with the promise of chocolate and cream just around the corner. Dean threaded his non-sticky hand through Cas's hair and stroked his thumb down to the base of his neck. Cas hummed into the kiss, and brought his own non-sticky hand up to mirror Dean's actions. Dean pulled him closer and sucked on his lower lip, tasting the remnants of chocolate and recalling all the times he’d done this before, until they all faded away, and it was just Cas, holding his face and kissing him like it was the only thing in his vast years of existence that he wanted to do.
The Impala’s engine sounded outside, and Dean reluctantly broke the kiss, still holding Cas. "Thank you," he whispered.
Cas leaned forward, pressed his lips against Dean's for a moment more. "You're welcome."